


It's Only Slightly Weird

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: F/F, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 14:32:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Mòrag has a new girlfriend. Niall isn't sure if he really approves.





	It's Only Slightly Weird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cookiekitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookiekitten/gifts).



> for a p gay fic exchange lol 
> 
> writing Niall as a teenage boy without the context of him being a lil baby emperor was... odd. he's just a socially awkward honor roll student in high school here, and probably owns too many sweater vests. that sort of kid.

Niall can hear faint sounds of the TV coming from the living room when he walks in.

“Mòrag? I thought you were working today,” he calls out, shrugging his backpack off and dropping the keys in that little ceramic dish by the front door. He hears someone moving but Niall’s too busy struggling to pry his shoes off to wonder why Mòrag hasn’t responded.

“Father called me earlier. He said to let you know that—“

Niall finally looks up.

That’s _not_ his sister standing there, at the end of the foyer.

The stranger stares at him for a moment, TV remote in one hand and the other hand lightly resting on her hip. She tilts her head at him with a faint smile. His immediate thought is _burglar?_ from a childhood of being taught to be wary of strangers, but a burglar wouldn’t have been sitting in the living room and watching TV.

Right? It’s not as though Niall is an expert at the nuances of how burglars normally operate.

“Uh…” he dumbly gapes. He’s still kneeling over, his fingers tangled through his shoelaces.

The woman casually leans against the wall. “ _That_ look is familiar.”

“P-Pardon?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m Brighid. You’re Niall, right?”

He catches his breath and visibly deflates. Not a burglar. Just… a friend of his sister’s.

But… Mòrag doesn’t have friends?!

No— he didn’t mean it like _that_ , Niall internally scolds himself, it’s just that he _knows_ his sister and Mòrag tends to keep her social circle limited and closed off. Besides, he’d only ever met Pandoria and Zeke before.

Did Mòrag somehow make a new friend?!

Brighid is still staring at him, and Niall realizes he hadn’t responded in about eight seconds. “Yes— I’m Niall. Did she not mention I would be spending the weekend?”

“No, she did.”

Now it’s Niall’s turn to stare. He finally manages to get his shoe off and straightens up. “… She didn’t tell me someone else would be here.”

He’s too far away to see, but he swears she raises an eyebrow. “Really? Mòrag never told you about me?”

Well. He needs to go do his homework. Yes, homework. Niall slowly scoops up his backpack and wonders how he can excuse himself and make his way to the guest room without offending Brighid. But Brighid seems to have grown tired of this exchange and vaguely gestures with the TV remote, stepping back to the living room.

“Don’t mind me. I won’t bother you.”

If she’s offering a window of opportunity to get away, then Niall certainly wouldn’t refuse.

He briskly walks to the guest room and closes the door behind him as quietly as he can, debates whether or not he should lock it, then firmly convinces himself he’s overreacting. So what if Mòrag made a new friend? So what if she had never talked about it? She’s an adult with her own life outside of the realm in which she’s completely devoted to the family and the business. Things are different from how they were, back before she moved out and got her own place in the city.

It’s really none of his business.

But how close are they even, that Mòrag apparently trusts Brighid enough to use her apartment when she’s not around? Not even Zeke or Pandoria have earned that privilege, and they go back way further.

… Though Niall supposes that’s because they’re Zeke and Pandy, so they don't really count.

 

* * *

 

The sun is setting low when he hears the front door open, a familiar jangle of keys, and then footsteps quickly moving from the kitchen. Voices, muffled. Niall cautiously opens his door, just a crack.

“You didn’t tell your brother about us?”

“I— it, er, the topic never came up organically…”

A sigh. “Mòrag. We’ve been dating for nearly half a year now.”

… What? Half a year?

“Ah. Our six month anniversary will be approaching… I’ll make dinner reservations.”

No sigh this time, but a light chuckle. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

They’re quiet right there, but Niall doesn’t need to have a straight A record or be in a slew of advanced courses or be president of the debate club to know what they’re probably doing in that pause of silence. He grimaces and closes the door, and tries to get back into the right mindset to do his homework.

It doesn’t work, because not a minute passes before there’s a knock. He knows that knock. It’s just Mòrag.

“Come in.”

“Niall. It’s good to see you.” Brighid isn’t with her. Niall allows his shoulders to relax and turns in his chair.

“Hey, Mòrag. How have you been?”

“Good, good.” Mòrag leans against the doorframe, looking around the ceiling. “Are your studies going well?”

“I’m managing.”

Great. Awkward silence. As close as they are, conversation never seemed to be either of their strong suits. The silences are hardly ever _awkward_ though, not like this, and they both know each other too well to pretend like they’re oblivious to the elephant in the room.

“Brighid and I are dating—“

“I know.”

“Oh.” Mòrag rubs the back of her neck.

“I’m glad you found someone, Mòrag,” Niall says, and he sincerely means it, even if he still isn’t quite sure what it all means, that she had never bothered tell him before. Was it really just a bunch of coincidental bad timings that never gave her the opportunity to bring it up? Or was she intentionally keeping it on the down-low? Did she tell their father?

“I meant to tell you soon,” she says. “Before dinner, maybe.”

“At the very least, a warning would have been nice before I arrived this afternoon,” he smiles.

Mòrag is still rubbing her neck, glancing down at the floor now. “That was— I was distracted. I should have sent you a text. Did she startle you?”

“Only a little. Don’t worry about it, though. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, that’s all.”

“Brighid is nice,” she says, and the fact that it sounds like she even needs to convince him makes Niall inwardly frown. How _did_ they meet, anyway? When he doesn’t say anything to that, Mòrag runs a hand over her face and takes a deep breath.

Niall had _never_ seen her act like this. His sister could be stiff and awkward at times, yes, but she’s still… Mòrag. Calm, collected, dangerously sharp and observant, a honed blade of unbending steel. Years of discipline and superhuman willpower gave her the strength to rise above the rest. She bends her knee to no one. Good lord, is that a blush spreading up her neck?

“Brighid… is….” she mumbles behind her hand, and now Niall seriously has to worry.

What the hell did Brighid do to his sister?

 

* * *

 

Dinner isn’t as awkwardly silent as Niall half-expected it to be. Brighid and Mòrag talk over the plates of food to each other, a mundane conversation he can’t help but tune out, still thinking of that odd look on Mòrag’s face when she had spoken to him only minutes earlier.

She looked so vulnerable. That iron shell of dignity had definitely fallen there for a moment, and all it took was for her to think about how… _nice_ Brighid is, apparently.

Niall squints at his sister.

Not because he’s suspicious of Brighid or anything. But. This is Mòrag, and Mòrag never shows her weak spots to anyone. That smile. He’d never seen her smile like that to another person before.

“Is something the matter, Niall?” Brighid asks.

“Uh—?”

Wait, how long had Brighid even been watching him watch Mòrag? Mòrag seems completely oblivious to that imaginary tension, still gazing at Brighid. He looks between the two of them, unsure how it’s even possible that he can’t quite tell where Brighid is even looking, and hastily shoves a spoonful of rice into his mouth to give himself a couple seconds to think while he chews.

It tastes good. Brighid cooked tonight’s dinner, he recalls Mòrag mentioning when he had helped set the table.

“Nothing,” he swallows. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been oddly quiet,” Mòrag says.

_Because you’ve been the odd one, Mòrag._

“Maybe he’s nervous.” Brighid puts down her chopsticks and laces her fingers beneath her chin. “Remember our first date, Mòrag? I lost track of how many times you choked on your water.”

“Brighid!”

“Do fragile nerves run in your family?”

“Mind your manners, please.” But she’s smiling and there’s a faint blush running up her neck. Niall shovels more rice into his mouth.

It’s really probably likely nothing to even overthink. His sister has a girlfriend. People act differently when they’re in love. That sort of thing is a cliché, but it is what it is. Just because it’s _Mòrag_ and seeing her act like this doesn’t mean anything is wrong with her, and thinking she’s helpless in any way would only be an insult to her ego.

She’s an adult and can handle her own affairs.

Is what Niall would like to think, but watching her like this is sort of painful.

 

* * *

 

Mòrag _insists_ that Niall join them to watch a movie after dinner in a transparent effort to squash down any of the awkwardness lingering from earlier, and even lets him pick out a DVD. But then she tells him and Brighid to go ahead to the living room, and that she’ll join shortly after she cleans up by herself, and anyone would be able to deduce that she wants Niall to sort out his own wariness and suspicions.

He lingers by the shelf of DVDs, his back turned to Brighid. The sounds of running water and clinking dishes drift from the kitchen.

“You’re thirteen, right?”

“Fifteen,” he stiffly says without turning.

“Oh. My bad.”

Yeah, yeah, he knows that he still has baby fat on his face and he’s a little shorter than most other boys his age. Even Rex sometimes teases him about it. Does Brighid think he’s… immature, or something?

How rude.

Niall continues running his fingers along the spines of the DVD cases. Most of these are historical documentaries or old period dramas. Damnit, Mòrag.

“If you’re worried about your sister…”

He sighs. “I’m not.”

“But if you are.”

He grabs a DVD at random— something dull and dreary and horribly boring, no doubt— and stands up so quickly his head slightly spins for a moment. Brighid raises a brow.

Mòrag never had friends. Aside from Pandy and Zeke. He remembers their days spent in the Gormotti countryside, in that big estate filled with servants and nannies and all sorts of other people their father hired to take care of them in his absence. They… weren’t like the other children in the neighboring village. Niall was young enough that he didn’t even notice, and he would happily run off to splash in the lake, but Mòrag was always reserved and wary.

They both have their lives set out before them in a neatly organized list of things to do. Mòrag never seemed interested in straying from her path.

But here’s Brighid, casually lounging on the sofa as if the place belongs to her, making his sister act like a complete weirdo.

Niall musters up as much height as he can, which isn’t very impressive when he barely manages to reach one and a half meters when he stands on his toes, and tries to glare.

“Do _not_ hurt my sister.”

Brighid doesn’t even blink.

“Haha, sure.”

Niall deflates. “… You’re not taking me seriously, are you?”

“No, I hear you,” Brighid shrugs. “What makes you think I’d ever do anything to hurt Mòrag?”

“I…” He doesn’t know. He really doesn’t know.

With impeccable timing, Mòrag comes into the living room. She glances between Niall and Brighid, apparently decides there’s nothing she needs to defuse, and settles on the sofa beside Brighid. She nods approvingly at the DVD Niall is clutching.

“Ah, a documentary about the excavations in ancient Judicium. Excellent choice.”

… Maybe he’ll suggest streaming a movie instead, next time. He slips the disc into the DVD player anyway and treads over to an available armchair. From the corner of his vision, he can visibly see Brighid wrap an arm around Mòrag’s shoulders.

 

* * *

 

About an hour into the documentary, which is about as dull and dreary and horribly boring as Niall had expected, he yawns and looks away from the screen.

Basked in the cool glows of the television, Brighid sleeps curled up against Mòrag, her back slowly rising and falling beneath a hand. Mòrag, though her attention is entirely focused on the movie, takes a moment to gently brush a strand of hair out of her face.

She looks straight at Niall right then with a soft smile that he rarely ever sees these days, and Niall decides that Brighid can't be all that bad, after all. If Brighid can make Mòrag stutter over her own words, and blush like an idiot, but also make her smile with that sort of serene gentleness that's usually buried beneath too much stress and severity, then she's probably okay. Yeah. 

Niall sinks comfortably into the armchair and turns back to the TV. He can usually appreciate a good documentary, but this is so  _boring_.

 

* * *

 

And then Brighid introduces her younger brother Aegaeon the following day, and Niall realizes there are far more awkward things in life than his sister acting like a fool around her girlfriend.


End file.
